


Who do you think you are?

by Vinnocent



Series: Wolfstuck [4]
Category: Homestuck, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angry Bro, Animal Abuse, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Drama, Gen, Loss of Control, Mind Control, Non-Sexy Hair Pulling, Physical Abuse, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6038980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinnocent/pseuds/Vinnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which certain matters are clarified, a deal is struck, and villains begin to make themselves known. Contains literal dog-kicking, multiple guilt trips, and pure fucking evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

\-- digitalDigitalis [DD] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] --  
DD: d i s a l l o w e d  
TA: try me, biitch.  
DD: i t   i s   c u t e   t h a t   y o u   s t i l l   h o p e  
DD: b u t   s o o n   y o u   w i l l   k n o w   t h e   f e a r   o f   g o d s  
\-- twinArmageddons [TA] laptop Exploded! --  
TA: H4H4H4H4H4 17H 7H47S 8357 Y0U H4V3 MU773RL1KK3R  
TA: W3 F0X1FUXX3R5 G0NN4 PU55 Y0U 84CK WH3R3 Y0U CUMM3D FR0M  
DD: i   w e l c o m e   t h e   c h a l l e n g e ,   b r o t h e r  
\-- digitalDigitalis [DD] has been Blocked! --

* * *

You wake up, out of habit, a little after sunrise. You wander toward the kitchen for food or at least caffeine, but are greeted by the burnt-out shells of Roxy’s computers and the lingering scent of fire extinguisher chemicals, so you keep walking out the door and follow the stairs up to the roof, hoping to clear your head or at least your lungs. Luckily, Dirk’s been too distracted to actually program the numerical lock yet.

Waiting on the roof is Becquerel.

He smile-pants at you and thumps his tail a couple times in greeting. You just stare at him. “The fuck are you doin' here?” you ask.

Becquerel stretches out his front paws and lifts his ass into the air in a particular doggy yoga pose that Jade had once informed you was called a play bow and was, in Becquerel’s case, usually an invitation to Jake for wrestling. It takes you a second for your sleepy mind to realize what he wants, and when you do, you kind of want to punch something.

“The Harleys sent you to spar with me because they’re busy being stuck in jail.”

Becquerel playfully yips and repeats the play bow.

“Yeah, well, tell them they can shove it up their asses,” you snarl. You turn and start back down the stairs, your skin already burning. Great, losing control of your werewolf side is exactly what you need right now.

Becquerel barks after you and then runs down the stairs and past you, nearly tripping you in the process. Your angry swearing does nothing to keep him from stopping in front of you and yapping his head off, trying to herd you back to the roof.

His position makes it way too easy to kick him in the chest to get him out of the way, and that pained and betrayed yip kind of makes you instantly regret it, but you are also still super fucking pissed. “You think what I want to do right now is _spar_?” you demand, and Becquerel backs up a step, tail tucked between his legs and head bowed. “You think I give a flying shit what the _Harleys_ think is best for me right now?”

Becquerel keeps backing away, tripping a little each time because dogs aren’t really built to go down stairs backwards. You advance on him angrily. “Here’s an idea! While you’re getting all this input from them from fucking _jail_ apparently, how ’bout you ask them why they insist on being liars that ruin everything?!”

Becquerel stares at you with the paragon example of sad puppy eyes and vicious, cold heat flares between your lungs. You pretend you’re going to kick him again, and he runs the rest of the way down the stairs and out of sight, leaving you with only a sad yip as though you really had kicked him again.

And then you sit down on the stairs and cry because why the fuck not.

When you finally get back to the apartment, you’re surprised to find Roxy sitting on the kitchen floor, carefully pulling apart one of her CPU cases with gloves and a mask on. “Oh, uh, hi,” you tell her. You close the door behind you. “I didn’t expect you up so early.”

“Was awakened by the sound of someone shouting at and then kicking a dog on the stairs right outside the apartment,” she grumbles.

You look away, ashamed. Which you should be because, person or no, you just kicked a fucking dog.

When she spares you a glance, she pauses work for a second to tell you, “You’ve, uh, got a little…” She gesture to her own face. “... everything.”

“Huh? Oh right.” You close your eyes and concentrate. You may not have control yet, but at the very least, you’ve learned how to shift normal again by only imagining your ~~comfort item~~ sword. The itching only lasts about a second, and then you’re back to normal. “So what are you doin'?”

“Tryin' to figure out if anything’s salvageable and if there’s any signs of－ Oh hey.” She pokes at something inside the case, then pulls it around to look at the back. “DIIIIIIIRK!”

About half a second later, Dirk is stumbling toward the kitchen, and you move out of the way to accommodate the oncoming nerd storm. “Sup?” he asks.

She glances over her shoulder, then waves him off. “No, not you. Dirk Prime.” She’s eying the ports at the back with extreme suspicion.

Dirk makes a noise of annoyance but moves back into the hallway. A moment later, you hear him kick Bro’s door and shout for Bro to get the fuck up because Roxy asked. There’s a short argument, then Bro finally follows him out, pulling on a well-worn t-shirt so he’s not standing around in just his boxers. Can’t be showing his precious man-titties to company. He looks like hell. “Wassit?” he mumbles.

She points at a thumb drive plugged into the back of the CPU. “That’s not mine.”

Dirk is immediately at her side, looking over her shoulder, but she shoves him back, telling him not to touch evidence. The lights on his shades are swirling at rapid speed. Bro just blinks slowly at them. “Sorry, what?” he says at last.

“Remember how we swore up and down that we always disconnected from the web before sleep?” Dirk tells him. He points to the drive. “ _That_ is how Digitalis cooked the computers while we weren’t around and weren't connected.”

“How did someone get in here?!” Roxy demands. “Who the fuck plugged this into my computer?! Oh shit, they're on the others, too.” She's pointing at the other cases under the table, but when you look around, you see that, yes, every single CPU has at least one thumbdrive plugged into the back, where it's less likely to be noticed.

Bro snarls a string of swears and storms back to his room. The swirling colors on Dirk’s shades slow down. “Dave, Bro, and I were out. You were asleep. It could’ve been anyone. But it’s possible that it was plugged in before that, and Digitalis just waited until you maxed out your machinery before destroying it. In which case…” He drops off as Bro reenters the room motioning for him to be quiet.

Bro’s on the phone. “Yeah, I don’t have an evidence room right now, and I need to spread all our new shit out as much as possible to prevent the same attack,” he tells whoever. He looks over the mess. “About a couple dozen overheated CPUs. … Yeah, I’ve got a couple nanny cams to prove my word to our caseworker, so I’ll check them for intrusion, but it looks like…” He runs a hand through his thinning hair. “Yeah, IA’s already elbow deep in my ass, so I might as well go ahead and tell them. … Jesus, I don’t even know. I’m this close to fucking done, man. I don’t suppose you want it?” Bro laughs at something the other person says, but it’s not a good laugh. It’s only now occurring to you that you have the ability to snoop with your werewolf hearing, but oh well. “Okay, yeah, thanks, man.”

Bro hangs up and turns to the three of you. “Stilinski’s gonna be here in about an hour to bag and tag all this shit. I’m gonna see if I caught our culprit on camera,” he tells you. “I only need Roxy to stick around. It’s best if you two get out of the way. Go play outside or something.” He makes a shooing motion at you as he migrates back to his bedroom.

Dirk turns to you with a completely stone-faced stoicism and says, “What the fuck is an outside?”

“I dunno,” you answer. “Some kind of disease maybe?”

“GET OUT!” Bro shouts at you both.

Dirk snickers and heads back to his room to get dressed. “You wanna spar until they’re done?” he asks.

The memory of kicking a fucking dog because you can’t keep your shit together flashes in your mind. “Uh, nah,” you mumble. “I think I’m gonna go find John.”

Dirk pauses in the doorway to the hall.

“What?” you ask.

“Dave, you can’t talk to John,” says Roxy. “That whole family is under suspicion, and your bro’s hand-picked right-hand man, who is also of that family, just got jailed for arson, contributing to the delinquency of a juvenile, destruction of evidence, destruction of state property, and, oh yeah!, _murder_. Three counts of murder. So if we so much as _glance_ at anyone _remotely_ related to the Crocker clan, it’s just going to cast more suspicion on Bro.”

You sort of see the point, but it’s a hazy point. “Okay, but they’re always suspicious of Bro,” you tell her.

Dirk groans and turns back to you. “No, man, they’re always suspicious that he’s incompetent,” he tells you. “Which, fair, because he rarely tries to be anything else. We’re talking suspicion that he’s had an active hand in this bullshit. We’re talking about more than being fired, but being actually imprisoned. That’s what’s being risked if we don’t play this _very_ carefully.”

“But he’s the one that’s fought the hardest to solve this!” you exclaim. “And the Harleys are lying anyway! So what does it matter if he trusted Jake, when we know Jake didn’t do it?”

Roxy looks away. Dirk scowls at the floor.

“You do know he’s lying, right?”

“Yes,” Dirk says with a sigh. “But why would he do this if he didn’t know _anything_?”

Roxy tears open the case of another CPU more out of spite than an actual need to. “Maybe he’s not a murderer,” she admits. “But he still let us down.”

You can’t deal with this anymore. You can’t listen to your family turn against the very friends that have been your rock since this all happened.

You go to your room, grab your jacket and your sword, and head outside.

* * *

You end up in the park, watching crows fly overhead. They’ve come into town from the forest to check out the fires for any potential dead animals to abscond with. You lean back on the bench and start fiddling with you iPod trying to find anything that fits your mood right now. (Hint: You have 5783 songs loaded and, no, none of them do.)

“You know there are open carry laws regarding edged weapons, right?” a harsh voice rasps next to your ear, and you jump about a foot in the air.

The speaker cackles and leans on her cane. It’s nearly identical to the one Terezi carries in length and weird dragon decorations, but it doesn’t come in “warning: this is a blind person” color. Well… you don’t think it does anyway? It seems to be silver. Then again, blindness might explain the ugly ass suit she’s wearing.

She comes around the side of the bench as you scramble to your feet. You don’t wait to hear her out. You turn and make a run for it.

Oof. Wow, she is fast with that cane.

“Are you, perhaps, also unaware that running makes you look guilty?” Pyrope Senior squawks, and the tip of her cane jabs down directly in front of your face. Eep.

“Why do I care if I look guilty if you people have already decided that I am?” you snarl because you have no goddamn sense.

“Oh, wow, a werewolf _and_ a telepathic!” she cheers. “We certainly got the package deal with you, didn’t we?” She taps your shoulder with her cane. “Come on, walk with me.”

“To a secluded alley where you can knife me to death and leave my corpse to bleed out?” you ask, but you get to feet anyway.

She rolls her eyes behind transparent candy red shades, identical to Terezi’s aside from the lack of scarring and the fact that you can actually see her eyes focusing on you. “Please, that is a terribly inefficient way to kill a werewolf,” she says. She swings her cane again to point behind you. “I was thinking more like the short distance to the seat you just vacated.”

You watch her, face carefully blank to keep from giving away any more than she already knows. She watches you back, eyes sharp, head tilted patiently and curiously to the side, and smile wide as an alligator’s. Chomp chomp. “Why?” you finally ask.

“Because I want to talk to you, cutie!” And, god help you, she actually reaches out and pinches your cheek like a grandma on TV or Mom when she’s particularly hammered.

You pull away and bat her hand aside. “Is it necessary for you to bore me to death with your monologue of evil before you kill me?”

“Hmm?” she asks, leaning in. “And who said I was going to kill you?”

You just keep watching her, trying to figure this nutbag out. “You’re a werewolf hunter,” you say. “... Aren’t you?”

She shrugs and stands straight again. “Vigilante would be more correct, though I would never admit such on record,” she says. “We’re not Serkets, Dave. They want to kill you because they can and because they believe they have the natural right to cull you from existence. Us? We’ve seen plenty of bad, and people do fine making bad happen without supernatural abilities.”

You shift uneasily. That does kind of fit with what Jade had said. And with last night. “So that’s why Terezi saved me? Because she doesn’t think I’m a monster?”

“Oh, you’re definitely a monster,” Pyrope laughs. “The question is what kind of monster you are. But we live in a culture of innocent until proven guilty.” She hums again thoughtfully. “Well, no, actually we don’t, if we’re talking about the actual practices of the culture instead of its ideologies, but that’s basically my point.” Her sharp gaze returns to you and sends a shiver down your spine. “We Pyropes are idealists. We believe in holding ourselves and others to a really fucking high standard with rules like ‘don’t murder people just for kicks’.”

That rings a bit scary as fuck to you. “Uh… so… does that mean, like, there are people who are not me who you are totally okay with murdering?” you ask. You might maybe back up a step.

Her gaze flicks to your feet for only the briefest microsecond. “Hm, I suppose,” she says. She leans on her cane again. “True justice is preferential, of course, but the law isn’t always capable of acting on supernatural evidence. In that case, if we believe the public is under threat from such a force, it becomes our duty to act upon it in such a way that the threat ceases.”

“That is a lot of words for ‘we like killing bad guys,’” you say, and she grins so broadly that you’re kind of afraid the top of her head will fall off.

She turns and stalks off back to the bench you abandoned. You hesitate but, well, she’s got you by the curiosity now. You follow at a safe-ish distance and ask, “So, uh, what does that mean for the Harleys?”

She plops her ass down in the middle of the bench, showing that she has no intention of actually sharing. Which is good because that would be awkward as hell. “What do you think it means for the Harleys?” she asks.

“What are you, a lawyer or a therapist?” you ask, and she laughs loudly (It sounds like a rockslide.), throwing her head back, and that’s when you see a scarred ring around her neck peek out a little from the tightly buttoned collar of her dress shirt.

“I really want to know!” she insists when she's done cackling at you. “What do you think about the Harley thing? They’re close to you, aren’t they? Friends? Now that you know what they are, do you think they could do this?”

“No fucking way!” you insist. “Jake Harley wouldn’t jaywalk with no one watchin', and we’re supposed to believe he’s a murderer? And that Jade would destroy evidence to cover for his ass despite his plan to admit to it anyway?” You shake your head. “I know you don’t know them, that no one running this show knows them, but－”

“Then why would he lie?” she asks, jabbing your chest with her cane for emphasis.

You blink at her. “Why the hell do you expect me to know?” you ask.

She shrugs. “Maybe you do know nothing,” she says. “Or maybe you don’t know what you know.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to figure out what I don’t know that I know, Mr. Miyagi?” you demand. Then, “WILL YOU STOP POKING ME WITH THAT THING?”

She cackles at you. “That’s what she said,” she teases with a wink.

“Oh my gog.” You bury your face in your hands. “Can I just meet one responsible adult for once in my life?”

She shrugs again. “Maybe if you live long enough,” she suggests. “My point is, are you absolutely sure that you’ve examined this from all the angles?”

“Jake and Jade would never commit murder!”

“Just like they’d never burn all the evidence?”

That gives you pause. You look away. That portion of the charges wasn’t up for debate. They’d both been seen, left fingerprints everywhere, were caught on camera, _and_ had waited patiently to be apprehended.

“So, given what you know, you are certain they’d never _voluntarily_ do these things,” says Pyrope. “Which raises the question: What motivating factor might cause them to _involuntarily_ do these things?”

“What?”

“Were they manipulated? Were they mind controlled? Were they replaced by evil robot clones from Mars?” She spreads her hands with fake innocence. “Just throwing stuff out there. Let me know if anything sounds plausible to you. You’re the Harley expert. Tell me to investigate robotic Martians, and I will totes do that thing.”

Your mind is whirring. “You… you think their alpha coulda demanded it?”

She leans forward and perches her chin her cane. “Hmm… Could have! Who's their alpha?”

“I－ I don’t know.” Would you tell her if you did? Can you really trust this crazy monster-hunting lawyer and her manic grin?

“But I’m right that they’re the only wolves you know?” she presses, and ha, you are _definitely_ not telling her about McCall. “Which means they’re the only ones telling you _anything_ about how this works and are probably the main reason you aren’t dead yet, correct?”

“Maybe.”

She nods. “Alright. So, why would they _maybe_ tell you everything except who their alpha is?” She doesn’t actually wait for an answer, instead shoving herself to her feet and heading toward the path. “But then again, I’m probably barking up the wrong tree. After all, last I heard, the evidence was pointing to a bear attack! Back when there even was still evidence, of course.”

“Right,” you mumble, staying right the fuck where you are.

She pauses on the pathway and turns back to you. “Strider, do you actually know why wolves howl?”

You find yourself blinking at her in confusion for the fiftieth time in this conversation. “Uh, to be scary as fuck?” you guess.

She laughs. “Correct! But also not the particular howl I was referring too. I’m talking about that long, high one that you can hear for miles!” she tells you. “That one, my dear, is a pack howl. It’s a lost, lonely wolf looking for their friends and family.” She tilts her head at you. “You’re not meant to be alone, Dave. You’re going to need to find your pack if you want to live through whatever’s coming.”

And then she leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

\-- medicaMystic [MM] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \--  
MM: hey doll…  
MM: um…  
MM: so are you there?  
MM: cuz l1ke… 1dk 1 had sorta th1s feel1ng l1ke maybe…  
MM: l1ke maybe she’s worr1ed about you?  
MM: that sounds dumb  
MM: um sorry to bother you  
\-- medicaMystic [MM] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \--

\-- medicaMystic [MM] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \--  
MM: crap 1 know 1 l1terally just sa1d 1 wouldn’t bother you…  
MM: but d1rk 1s here?????  
MM: 1 really need to know 1f th1s 1s about murder or not  
MM: 1’m try1ng to be qu1et but 1’m pretty sure he knows 1’m home  
MM: what w1th my car parked outs1de and all…  
TG: sorry busy w police stuff will catch up later!!  
\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering medicaMystic [MM] \--  
MM: .............  
MM: fuck

* * *

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering apocalypseArisen [AA] \--  
TG: hey  
TG: so  
TG: whatcha up to  
TG: not much going on here  
TG: got kicked out of the house  
TG: and accosted by a lawyer  
TG: im sitting in the sun radia something terrible has gone wrong with my life  
AA: oh my god dave how bored are you XD  
TG: so bored  
TG: so terribly bored  
TG: help me aradia youre my only hope  
AA: lmao!  
AA: come to the mall! were all hanging out in the arcade!  
TG: theres still an arcade there  
TG: did we all time travel back to the 1990s  
AA: pfft ill look into that for you and give you a status update when you get here :P  
TG: aye aye captain  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering apocalypseArisen [AA] \--

* * *

The bus has almost gotten to the stop by the mall when it pauses to let three police cruisers pull out. One of them is Bro’s, which you know, because it is clearly labelled “Sheriff.” Wtf, you thought he was waiting at home for Stilinski? Wasn’t that the whole point to kicking you out?

You pull your phone out to pester Dirk for details, but you find you’ve missed a message from Aradia.

\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] started trolling turntechGodhead [TG] \--  
AA: dave dont come  
AA: dave are you there?!!  
AA: im serious clubs is super pissed off you cannot come meet us right now!!!  
TG: what did the crew hit the fucking mall thats a new low  
AA: what no  
AA: dave your bro just arrested sollux and mituna!  
TG: what  
AA: something about destruction of property and interference with police work?  
AA: look i know none of us are exactly upstanding citizens but we have NO idea what this is about!  
AA: spades was already mad at you and clubs talked him down but everyone is confused and mad and im afraid hell turn on you if you butt in right now D:  
TG: yeah no agreed that is a thing i dont want  
AA: but if you could find out what the hell is going on that would be nice?  
TG: on it

You stay on the bus through the mall stop and bring up a second pesterchum window.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--  
TG: why did bro just arrest the twins  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] is Busy! --  
TG: THIS IS ACTUALLY REALLY IMPORTANT  
TG: dirk  
TG: dirk  
TG: dirk  
TG: hey  
TG: hey  
TG: listen  
TG: hey  
TG: listen  
TG: fuck message me back if you get this  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--

You start to click Roxy next, but she’s actually offline. Dammit, who else would－ Of course. The nosy broad. Obviously.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--  
TG: rose please reply im serious  
TT: Yes?  
TG: oh thank god  
TG: do you have any idea why bro just arrested sollux and mituna  
TT: No, I haven’t been watching the news. Would you like me to look into it for you?  
TG: yes but not in a way where bro knows about it  
TG: pretty sure keeping our noses out of his business is exactly why he exiled dirk and me from the apartment  
TT: … If you’re not in the apartment, and you’re not here, where are you?  
TG: outside  
TT: Are you okay?  
TG: no  
TG: my beautiful vampire skin is turning to ash right before my eyes  
TT: Well, then I have good news for you, dearest brother. We did some tests, and, as it turns out, you are actually a werewolf, not a vampire.  
TT: So you should be fine.  
TG: its silver sunlight  
TG: obviously  
TT: Oh dear, that is quite disastrous.  
TT: It seems that they have been charged with destruction of private property and interference with an ongoing police investigation.  
TG: yeah but why  
TG: like really wtf  
TG: theyre just hackers  
TG: and not even the right hackers  
TT: The right hackers?  
TG: roxys computers got fried last night by digitaldigitalis  
TT: digitalDigitalis? You’re sure?  
TG: yeah do you know something  
TT: I take it you haven’t done any research into the Speakers?  
TG: the tell everybody about werewolves cult  
TG: i didnt know i needed to i thought that was just a warning story  
TT: It’s a lot easier to be warned if you actually take in all the details, Dave. Like who they were, which deaths are unconfirmed, and who still has ties to them.  
TT: For example, one of the purported loves of the leader, Benoni Vantas, was Astrophel Captor.  
TG: wait what vantas  
TG: captor what  
TT: And Astrophel was known to use the handle digitalDigitalis.  
TG: their dad fucked roxys shit up  
TT: I doubt it. Though Astrophel Captor is among the unfirmed dead, why would he only now return to using his handle? And just to wreck Roxy’s network?  
TG: why would the captors  
TT: Agreed. There is definitely something odd there.  
TG: wait bro said something about this last week after snowman struck droogs place  
TG: are the crew kids and the speaker kids one and the same  
TT: More like a severely overlapping Venn diagram.  
TT: In the “solely Midnight Crew” section is Aradia Megido. In the “solely Speaker” section is Nepeta and Meulin Leijon as well as Kanaya and Porrim Maryam. Scarlet Pyrope was the prosecutor on the case, and it’s rumored that her teenage daughter Rubena “Redglare” Pyrope had been a follower. Scarlet was eventually murdered as well, and there have been attempts on Rubena.  
TT: In the section in which children adopted by the Midnight Crew and children birthed by the Speakers overlaps is Karkat and Kankri Vantas, Rufioh and Tavros Nitram, and Sollux and Mituna Captor. It is also worth noting that Onesiphoros Nitram is the only one of the five group leaders whose body was actually found.  
TG: the pyropes actually represented speakers  
TG: huh  
TG: wait all of those kids hang out with each other  
TT: Wouldn’t you if that was the only connection you would ever have with your family and where you came from aside from a single sibling?  
TG: yeah i guess  
TG: whats up with that anyway the pairs of kids i mean  
TT: The speakers believed in having no more than two children per person. The 90s were pretty concerned with population booms, and they were hippies on top of everything else.  
TT: Free-love hippies, in fact.  
TG: wait  
TT: It is in fact possible that their genetic lineage is a net as equally tangled as ours, though this is only rumor and conjecture and nothing has been confirmed.  
TG: thats a big fucking net  
TT: Indeed.  
TG: wait i got distracted  
TG: i need to update aradia brb  
TT: All I’m doing today is hiding alcohol, so feel free to message me whenever.

TG: shit sorry hi  
AA: did you find out what happened?  
TG: so um  
TG: does the handle digitaldigitalis ring a bell for you  
AA: thats their dad!  
AA: what does he have to do with anything?  
TG: well as you know hes dead  
TG: but his handle isnt  
TG: his handle destroyed private property and interfered with a police investigation  
AA: so your bro just assumed it was them?  
TG: can you you think of anyone else who would use it  
AA: well  
AA: no  
AA: but theyre really proud of what they do theyve never hidden it before!  
TG: yeah it seems off to me too but theres nothing we can do right now  
TG: look i dont know what theyre oh shit i got arrested contingency plan is  
TG: but do NOT wipe their computers  
TG: theyre being charged with wiping a system that was being used for an investigation so that will only make them look guiltier  
TG: and judges understand jacksquat about technology so they tend to just believe whatever the prosecutor tells them  
AA: yeah thats what redglare said but thanks  
AA: i have to go talk with my family but thanks for looking it up for me!  
TG: np  
\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--  
TG: is karkat okay  
TG: shit  
TG: please dont read this later

You get off the bus at the next stop and check the map for how to get to Mom's house since all your plans just flew out the window and you can’t think of anyone not-John left to bother, even if this means you're just going to end up sitting around bored while she knits and rambles on at you about the zoologically dubious.

Oh, hey, you just realized that you’re zoologically dubious now. Weird.

Your phone buzzes with a new message.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--  
TT: Hey.  
TT: You’re not dead, right?  
TG: im fine but bro arrested the captors  
TT: What? Why?  
TG: their dead dad used to use the digitalis handle  
TG: so obv recent events mustve been them  
TT: Yeah, I don’t think so, but I can see how it would look that way to Bro.  
TT: Shit.  
TG: where have you been anyway  
TT: You would not believe me if I told you.  
TG: ugh just dont get arrested bro doesnt need that shit rn  
TT: I’m pretty sure I’m on the legal side of things right now.  
TG: pretty sure  
TT: Gonna be honest with you, bro, I have no idea what I’m doing.  
TT: Just winging this shit the best I can.  
TT: See a shiny, grab the shiny, fucking abscond as fast as I can.  
TG: why are you talking like me  
TT: I have been staring at this computer for a while. I made an info-for-info trade, and what I’m trying to trade for is a goddamn book, so this might take a while.  
TG: you know they have stores for that right  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--


	3. Chapter 3

\-- aimlessRenegade [AR] began pestering texanTransplant [TT] \--  
AR: Turn around.  
AR: Come back.  
TT: What? I filled everything out.  
AR: You will work today.  
TT: Dude, I will, but I have to get the ONLY evidence we currently have out of my apartment.  
AR: Don’t worry about that.  
TT: It is my apartment. I need to oversee it.  
AR: Call Dirk to do it.  
TT: What is so immediately important that it cannot wait another half an hour? (If Stilinski has finally given me a correct time estimate.)  
AR: You can start with processing Harley's release.  
TT: EXCUSE ME  
AR: Little Harley.  
AR: You need to process her release.  
TT: What.  
TT: Ugh, hold on I am coming back in.  
\-- texanTransplant [TT] ceased pestering aimlessRenegade [AR] --

\-- texanTransplant [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--  
TT: Hey, I need you to go home.  
TT: Shoulda thought of that before you kicked me out.  
TT: I am serious Dirk.  
TT: Do you type like an old lady on purpose, or does it just come naturally?  
TT: I work hard at this shit. Old lady is my goal in life. Do not judge.  
TT: Anyway, I am stuck at the office. I need you to go let BHPD into the apartment and oversee what they do.  
TT: Maybe take pics if you can do it without starting a fight with Stilinski.  
TT: Well, now it’s a challenge.  
\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering texanTransplant [TT] \--  
TT: Dammit Dirk

When Dirk continued to not reply, Bro gave up and shoved his phone in his pocket. He stepped out of his pickup with an angry grunt. So close. He had been so close to leaving. Dammit.

Inside the precinct, Renaud was waiting for him, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. “Sup?” Bro asked.

Renaud rolled his eyes and turned to point to his desk, which was the usual orderly disaster. Bro didn’t really get what his point was. Renaud knew sign language and, in fact, could speak, but he chose to sign as little as possible and speak never, deeming language-based communication a "distraction." Bro didn’t really get how miming was less distracting but had long ago decided to just roll with it. Renaud was good at his job, and the fact that he alternately annoyed and confused basically everyone he came into contact with was just icing on the cake.

“Okay, what about it?” Bro asked.

Renaud then turned again and pointed to Jake’s desk. The paperwork pile was about thrice its usual level, the drawers were a disaster (Was that a box of Milkbones?), and Bro could see the marks of Renaud’s organization skills. Bro winced in realization. He only had two deputies, and one of them was imprisoned, which meant that, while Bro had continued working on his own shit at his own pace, Renaud had taken on double the work, and it was quickly getting out of hand. And Bro, asshole that he was, would’ve never noticed without Renaud forcing the issue.

Bro sighed and rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I get it now. What do you need me to do? Something about Jade making bail?”

Renaud handed him a small bundle of forms. The release papers for Jade Harley. Obviously, anyone could handle it, but Renaud knew that Bro didn’t want anyone but the two of them handling the Ampora/Peixes case. Just as much of a control freak as Bro, Renaud probably agreed. Bro flipped through the pages quickly to make sure everything was in order, then…

“Condolence Peixes?”

He looked up from the paper to his deputy who then made that gesture that Bro had come to recognize as meaning, “Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted you to notice.”

Condolence Peixes was the mother of every single one of the Peixes girls. The woman they couldn’t find. The woman that didn’t seem to exist. The woman that Roxy had seemingly burnt up her system trying to track down.

And she’d walked right into the station and posted bail (in cash) for Jade’s release.

“Is she still here?!” Bro demanded.

Renaud rolled his eyes and pointed to the paperwork, making clear his meaning of “Well, obviously she’s waiting for Jade to be released.”

“Downstairs?” Bro asked, and Renaud nodded again. Bro took off like a shot to the back of the precinct, ignored the elevator, and threw open the fire door to the stairs, taking them two at a time to the holding area in the basement.

The woman standing there waiting with a bored-looking Officer Torres was hands down the tallest person Bro had ever seen in his life, and consisted of about 40% hips and 59% hair. She kind of reminded him of statues of gods, except less marble and more scary. She wore a gray pencil skirt that hugged every curve, bright gold heels, and an expensive-looking fuchsia suit jacket with absolutely nothing underneath it. She was practically gilded in some department store’s entire selection of gold jewelry.

For a split second, as she turned to him, Bro could see an unamused glower and predatory gaze, and then it was gone, and she was all over-dramatic weeping mother going for the Oscar. “Oh my poor wayward guppy!” she cries. “I just don’t minnow why she’d do somefin pike this!”

Did she just… pun? While crying? While bailing out her… whatever Jade is to her?

She kept crying and carrying on for a few minutes while Bro just stood there waiting. Finally, the tears stemmed a bit, she sniffled, and then she put her hands on her hips and pouted, “Whale, aren’t you going to let her out?”

“Well, first of all, I was waiting for you to finish,” said Bro. “Secondly, I need some better contact information from you first, because this is a P.O. Box and a _fax number_ , and we have been trying to contact you for two weeks about the murders of your son and daughter.”

She blinked at him in over-played confusion. “What do you mean, offisher?” she asked. “I don’t have a son.”

“Well, it’s not what the papers say,” Bro admitted, “but word is that you were the one who birthed Cronus and Eridan Ampora.”

“Birthed, yes,” she said. “But they aren’t mine.”

“And you don’t care? At all?” he pressed. “Not that Cronus is dead? That Eridan is missing? That their father can’t be located?” Well, he'd almost been located, but then Jade burned the body parts.

She just shrugged. “Do you have an emoceanal attachment to every shit you pass?” she asked.

Wow. What the ever loving fuck. Bro glanced past her to the cell she was standing next to. Jake and Jade’s cell. Usually men and women weren’t put together and, if they could help it, adults weren’t put with juveniles. But, being a cop, they couldn’t put Jake with anyone else, and putting Jade with him saved at least a little space. Their cell was against the corner wall, so he couldn’t see from where he was still standing by the stairwell, but he could hear.

No one had taunted Jake from the other cells since he’d come down here. It had been chaos when they’d brought Jake down and, according to the guards, it had stayed such. Now, it was as quiet as if it was empty. Even the Captor boys said jackshit. Bro held out the forms to her. “Address of residence, work phone, and home phone or personal cell phone. Relationship to the accused as well.”

She gave him a look that clearly read ‘Are you really going to insist? Really?’ Bro stood his ground, stone faced. She sighed and grabbed the forms. “Do you have a pen?” she asked.

“There’s a desk over there,” Officer Torres said, pointing to the far corner. Grumbling, Condolence went to fill out the papers better than she had the first time.

Bro watched her go, then sidled up next to Torres and whispered, “What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck?”

Torres glanced at him, then Condolence Peixes. The woman kept her back turned to them, so Torres nodded toward the Harley cell. Bro raised an eyebrow, but Torres only responded with another even more insistent nod.

Begrudgingly, Bro finally faced their cell full on. He’d been avoiding looking at it, because everything related to his deputy’s betrayal was still a punch in the gut. What he found surprised him mostly in how much it didn’t surprise him. How achingly expected it was.

Jake had his back turned to the cell door and was sitting on the floor, curled around his cousin who was sitting in front of him, his face buried in her hair. Bro had seen them collapse asleep in similar positions before; the two were completely inseparable. He stood there for a few moments, wondering what Torres had been trying to bring his attention to. And then he noticed that Jake’s shoulders were shaking. That he clung to Jade so hard that her flesh paled under his fingertips. That where his back was arched with defensive tension, she sat as limp as a ragdoll.

“What…?”

“Offisher.”

Bro turned to Condolence who was suddenly standing next to him. She held out the papers to him. “It’s sheriff, actually,” he mumbled. He flipped through the pages, then pulled out his phone to quickly Google the address and numbers to make sure they weren’t made up. The address was the Peixes House, and, while the numbers didn’t have names attached to them, they were real and local. It would have to suffice.

He folded the papers into his coat pocket and held his hand out to Torres for the cell keys. She seemed to hesitate, but she did hand them over. He unlocked the door, pulled it aside, and stood to the side. “Alright, Jade Harley, your aunt posted bail.”

“She’s not our aunt,” Jake mumbled quietly.

“I don’t give a shit if she was your first grade teacher,” Bro snarled. “Her paperwork is in order, she paid the fee, and we’ve got better things to do than play babysitter to teenage delinquents. JADE! UP!”

Jade continued not to move. Jesus, she wasn’t dead was she?

“Excuse me, shore-iff?” Condolence chirped from Bro’s side. He turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “Would you mind if I tried?”

“Uh, sure, go for it,” he said, but the second he did, he noticed the whole-body flinch in Jake and the way his grip tightened even harder. What the hell?

Condolence moved forward in such proximity that Bro was forced to take another couple steps away from the door. “Jade, it’s time to go home,” she said.

Nothing.

The bubbly ditz personality was then dropped like a lead balloon. The snarl of her lips seemed to, somehow, run through her whole body. “JADE. OBEY.”

The way Jade turned to look at her was something straight out of a horror movie. Her head just rotated to look at her aunt like a puppet on a string. It kind of ruined puppets for Bro. It was like she was just then remembering how to use her limbs as she slowly started trying to jerk her arms out of Jake’s grip and squirming and twisting in an attempt to get toward her aunt. But her expression was blank.

What

the

fuck.

Jake held tighter, struggled harder, until he was eventually wrestling her to the ground, and suddenly Jade screamed like a broken, dying animal, and Bro snapped out of his haze of disbelief. He grabbed for his taser and stepped forward.

But Condolence was there first. She grabbed Jake by the hair and wrenched his head violently backward until he was forced to relinquish his grip and scramble up to his lest he risk being scalped.

“Stop that!” Bro cried. “You can’t do that!” He didn’t let go of his taser.

Condolence turned to him with feigned innocence and confusion, ditzy mask right back in place like nothing had ever happened despite the fact that she still had a sobbing, pleading Jake seized by the hair. “Oh, I’m saury!” she chirped in that grating bubbly tone. “Was that inappropriate? I did ask if I was allowed to approach. I’m afraid I’m not too familiar with jailhouse manners. Do excuse my misbehavior.” She dropped Jake like a piece of garbage and turned to Jade, who had migrated to her side, clinging to Condolence’s arm. “Let’s go now, guppy.”

She pulled Jade out into the hall, and Jake scrambled to his feet, and Bro slammed the door shut just in time to cut him off. “No! No, Dirk, you can’t let her! Sir, please! Please don’t let her take Jade! You can’t! Please please please! Dirk! Sir!”

Bro looked to the way that Condolence pulled Jade along to the elevators, Jade stumbling along like she was drunk despite a whole day in jail.

“She’s living at the Egberts’ residence,” Bro called after them.

Condolence’s grip tightened, but she turned to Bro with a vacant smile. “Who?” she asked, batting her lashes.

“Pater Egbert. Her second cousin once removed. That’s her address on record.”

The elevator opened, and Condolence pushed Jade inside and rested her hand on the edge of the door to keep it from closing. “So?” Condolence demanded of Bro.

“So that’s where we’ll expect to find her,” he said, crossing his arm. “Bailing her out means you take responsibility for making sure she actually gets to court, but you don’t own her. She returns to her residence.” It wasn’t entirely true. If Jade ‘voluntarily’ went with Condolence, then there was no legal ground to challenge it. But he was risking a lot on the woman’s claim that she didn’t actually know how the justice system worked.

He could see the way her jaw moved as she ground her teeth in frustration, eyes combing over him to see if he was bluffing, but he had an iron-clad poker face. “Fine,” she huffed at last. She stepped into the elevator and pressed the door close button.

Bro turned to Torres. “Call Social Services,” he ordered. “Make sure they know what we just witnessed, that we’ll both attest to it, and that Harley had been living with the Egberts and was behaving strangely when released to Peixes.” Torres nodded and hurried to the desk at the end of the room.

Jake was wiping his nose on his sleeve, sobs slowly working their way to an end. “Th-thank you,” he mumbled.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” Bro growled.

Jake look horrified at the idea and backed up a step before turning away in shame.

Bro snorted. “Right,” he grumbled. “Then do me a favor, and keep your thanks.”

He stormed back up the stairs, back into the bullpen, plopped down at Jake’s desk, and started sorting out the paperwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Bro <> AR)  
> (You can't stop me.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This definitely NOT the recommended way to deal with a relapsing alcoholic. Rose's advice comes from a place of inexperience and growing up in a household where alcoholism was normal and who has learned to prioritize minimizing damage rather that finding long-term solutions.

You’ve been at Rose’s place for nearly an hour when you start hearing noise downstairs. “Hey, Imma go check that out,” you volunteer, mostly because there’s only so much drawing while she knits you can take.

She glances up as you stand, raising an over-tweezed eyebrow. “Check what out?” she asks.

“The… noise? Downstairs?”

The knitting goes in the lap as she takes a very sudden and very scientific interest in you. “You can hear noise on another level? Can you tell which level, how far, or what direction?”

“Jesus, I don’t know. There’s someone downstairs or at least a very energetic cat, and I’m bored,” you tell her, and you make for the hall before she can interview you further, though you know she’ll pick right up where she left off the second she has another opportunity. You stop at the stairs and listen. You think, by the type of noises and the general direction, that either Mom or Roxy is in the kitchen.

You suddenly feel a lot less confident, but you make your way down to the kitchen. At first, you don’t see anyone, but then you see the edge of Roxy’s hot pink sneaker peeking out from behind the kitchen island. “Roxy?”

She turns to peek out from where she’s sat on the floor, her back against the side of the kitchen island. “Oh, hi, Dave!” she says. “I didn’t know anyone was home!”

“Rose is upstairs,” you tell her. “Do you want me to－?”

“Please don’t tell her,” Roxy says, giving you the saddest puppy dog eyes and… yeah, she’s leaning on a bottle of vodka. Shit. “She’ll be mad.”

“Are you drunk?” you ask.

Roxy sits up again, so you have to come around to the other side of the kitchen island to face her. She’s frowning down at the still mostly full bottle. “Not yet,” she grumbles.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” you ask.

She smiles up at you brightly. “That would be awesome, dude!” she tells you, and you slide down to the floor opposite her, back against the fridge.

You pull out your phone and bring up Pesterchum. “So the evidence thingy didn’t go well?” you ask.

She shrugs. “I dunno, man. It went.” She makes a vague gesture. “It’s just… all of it. Like, if this is Sollux, he really fucking overstepped his bounds. Like, I know we ruin each other’s shit all the time, but not like this.” She takes another swig from the bottle, then continues rambling about the Captors’ betrayal and Dirk’s shitty attitude and cagey behavior and how she can’t believe Jake would lie and manipulate like that but what if he did and… yeah, basically all the thoughts you’ve been having lately, except with a weird competitive crush on Sollux for some reason (which probably makes the whole thing much worse).

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--  
TG: hey um roxys down here  
TG: with a bottle of vodka  
TT: Shit.  
TG: she says shes not drunk yet but shes definitely getting there  
TG: she pleaded for me not to tell you  
TG: im not sure what to do  
TG: she was really making progress rose i thought she wanted this too  
TG: but if i take it from her and tell her off shell just go get another  
TT: Yes, I know. That has always been the complication of the matter.  
TT: For something like this, you can’t worry about the big picture, about how this one relapse will upset her progress. You just handle each incident as they come.  
TT: Would you mind handling this one yourself, since it seems she may become upset if I come down there to deal with it?  
TG: shit shes already upset man i think she really liked sollux in some sort of weird punch him in the face way  
TT: Yes, she does. I suspected this might affect her in such a way, which is why I tried to hide the alcohol, but she’s fairly adept at finding it or procuring more, despite being two years under the legal age.  
TT: To be honest, I’m proud that she held out this long. You’re right. She does seem to want sobriety now.  
TG: i wanna help her but i dont have a gooey freudian center like you  
TT: Okay, you do know that when I talk about Freud, I do so as a joke, right? Because Freud is a joke.  
TG: no i did not know that  
TG: noted for future reference  
TG: but ill probably forget  
TT: True.  
TT: And don’t worry. I’ll help. I’ll just help without coming down.  
TT: First step is to go to the fridge and pour two glasses of juice for the both of you. Don’t ask her if she wants any; just hand it to her. She’ll start mixing the vodka in, so this will slow down her pace.  
TT: Drink your own glass as slowly as you casually can. She’ll be naturally inclined to match your pace.  
TT: Try to keep her talking as much as possible. If she’s talking, she can’t drink.  
TT: It is actually possible for her to get tipsy and sleepy on much less alcohol than she usually consumes, so long as it’s given time to enter her circulatory system.  
TG: so… i want her drunk??  
TG: look at that breaking out the punctuation for the special occasion  
TT: She’s already getting drunk, Dave.  
TT: You want to lessen the physical and emotional damage as much as possible and get her to bed.  
TT: Now, do as I instructed you, and keep me updated.

Rose is right that manipulating Roxy into slowing way the hell down isn’t that difficult. But man, every other sentence out of Roxy's mouth is a punch in the gut. She’s a lot more chill when she’s drunk, which sort of reads as energetic and happy if you don’t know her well enough. Rose tells you that alcohol is a depressant, but depressing doesn’t necessarily mean sad, or at least not outwardly so. In Roxy’s case, it slows down her thoughts and quiets her emotions. Like the way you tend to get hyperactive when you aren’t engrossed enough, Roxy gets chipper as hell when her emotions are smothered.

Which explains how she can say things about no one actually wanting her around with a smile on her face.

“I’m cool with it, though,” she rambles at you. “Like, I don’t mind, so long as I still get to hang. So long as it’s fun enough that you all will put up with me. And I’m useful sometimes, which is cool, ‘cuz I like to be able to do things for you guys.”

Rose says that’s normal, that both Roxy and Mom say things like that all the time, and it makes you feel like a louse for abandoning them. To you, Mom was always just this weird old drunk. It wasn’t a problem; it was just part of her personality. It didn’t particularly surprise you when Roxy followed in her big sister’s footsteps. You’d noticed that it had started bothering Rose, but you still hadn’t thought it was a big deal.

You’re an idiot.

Eventually, you run out of things to say in reply, and you just sit next to her, letting her lean against your shoulder while you keep topping her glass off with more orange juice before she can top it off with vodka.

Eventually, she falls asleep, and Rose comes down to help you carry Roxy up to her room. While you take off her shoes and jacket and get her tucked in, Rose goes back down to put everything away and procure a minotaur to guard the liquor labyrinth or something.

You pull her phone out of her pocket, intending to put it on the nightstand, but a message flashes on the screen, and when you look down out of habit, you nearly drop it.

\-- uranianUmbra [UU] began cheering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \--  
UU: hUllo? roxy?  
UU: this is the first time i’ve Used the apparatus yoU modified for me so i’m not entirely certain of my ability to sUccessfully commUnicate with yoU.  
UU: not that i doUbt yoUr abilities, bUt rather that i doUbt my own.  
UU: i’m worried aboUt yoU. yoU have sUch little hope?  
UU: roxy are yoU there?  
UU: oh there yoU are. i gUess i’ll have to wait Until another time.  
UU: oh hUllo, dave!

You have really had it up to hear with Roxy’s creepy hacker friends.

TG: are you serious  
UU: what?  
TG: i cant believe you put cams in a girls bedroom pervert  
UU: dave im not sUre what yoU mean.  
TG: yeah then how did you see that i just put roxy to bed  
UU: becaUse i’m there! tUrn aroUnd!

You practically jump out of your skin and spin around. But there’s nothing behind you except Roxy’s desk.

“Dave?” Rose asks, poking her head back in the door. “Aren’t you done by now?”

“Got distracted,” you tell her. You turn and show her the phone. “I was putting this away when I saw that one of her friends had sent a message to _me_ via Roxy’s account.”

“Well, that’s creepy,” Rose says, taking the phone to look over the messages. “Oh, now they know that I have the phone. And they apologize for behaviors that may be seen as creepy, so they can hear us too.” Her eyes quickly scan over the room. “Alright, I’ll bite,” she says, hand going to the stilettos tucked into her belt. “Where in the room are you?”

She reads the reply on the phone, then, with a quirked eyebrow, she pushes past you to approach the desk. She looks over it for a moment before her eyes alight on a small bronze figurine of a firefly sitting on what looks like an electric coffee warmer but is probably the "apparatus" that the hacker mentioned. Rose puts the figurine aside and picks up the electronic disk. “I don’t see a camera,” she says.

You reach over and pull the plug out of the wall. “And now it doesn’t see you, either,” you tell her. You snatch the disk from her hand and drop it in the trash.

Rose glances down at Roxy’s phone. “It says uranianUmbra has disconnected,” she says. “Either that worked, or they’re rather dedicated to this joke.”

“It’s not a joke,” you grouse. “Jokes are funny.”

“I suppose you have a point,” she admits. She puts the phone down on Roxy’s desk. “Let me take you home.”

* * *

Dirk is home when you get back to the apartment, but Bro isn’t. He tells you that Bro’s working overtime catching up on Jake’s workload, and also there is pizza in the fridge. It has pineapple on it because your brother is a dick. Trusting him was a mistake you really should have learned from by now.

Your next mistake is turning over and trying to go back to sleep after you’re nearly roused from slumber by the sound of Dirk suddenly shouting swears. It’s not exactly uncommon in your apartment. Unfortunately, it is quickly followed by your newly installed door being kicked in, your lights being flipped to their brightest setting, and a bucket of ice water being dumped on you and your bed.

You immediately scramble out of bed, tangling in your sheets and dumping your own ass hard onto the floor. “DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK?!” you demand.

Bro is standing over you, and he looks _pissed_. “Sofa,” he says, pointing to the door. “Now.”

You pull your drenched body out of the sheets, stare at him in a way you hope communicates how fucking insane he is, and then give up and march yourself out into the hall. Dirk comes out of the bathroom at that moment and tosses you a towel before heading into the main room, Bro on your heels. As you follow, you quickly scrub most of the water out of your hair, then pull off your shirt and wrap yourself in the towel. “What happened?” you whisper to Dirk as you plop down next to him on the futon. He shrugs, kinda looking like he’s just going to go back to sleep right there.

“We’re going to have a show and tell,” Bro says, picking up his tablet from the table. “I’m gonna show, and you’re going to tell. Remember how I was going through our security footage to see who sabotaged Roxy’s computer? It was Jade, by the way.” He wires his tablet into the television, and you can see a paused video of the apartment.

Dirk has perked up now, and you can see that he’s running through a mental list of shit he’s done in the apartment that might get him in trouble. He frowns, confused, and then something occurs to him. Slowly, he turns to you. “What?” you hiss. “I didn’t－”

And suddenly, your statement is severed by the sound of your own voice growling and swearing and making what sounds like are supposed to be threats but are too nonsensical to tell. You turn to the screen to see Dirk and Rose hauling you through the front door of the apartment as you struggle against them. You’ve got the blond fur/glowing eyes/sharp teeth/nail-claws/elf ears/caveman brow thing happening again, and you are legitimately trying to murder Dirk, stopped only by the fact that you are heavily drugged.

Oh god.

Bro taps something on his tablet, and the video switches. You’re coming in from your first were-strife with Rose. You know that because your shirt in the video is fucking shredded and bloodstained, though the wounds she inflicted had already healed. You hadn’t worried about it at the time because you knew Bro was still asleep and wouldn’t see, but you’d forgotten about the cameras.

Dirk’s head is in his hands, and he’s swearing quietly to himself because he hadn’t thought about it either. You’d both just sort of gotten used to the nanny cams? Neither of you were stupid enough to try to hide shit _inside_ your tiny-ass apartment. Well, until the werewolf thing, you guess.

The video switches again. The hall cam caught a glimpse of you when you had gone from the bathroom to your bedroom while in the middle of your anxiety-induced transformation.

The video switches again. This one, somehow, is the most disturbing. It shows you walking stiffly, drunkenly toward the front door. From your left wrist hangs the broken handcuffs Dirk had tried to use to keep you in your room. Your wrist dripping blood, but you don’t seem to notice. You fumble with the lock on the door for several minutes, growing more and more obviously desperate to get outside, until it finally opens and you scramble out like a starving man just one door away from a royal buffet.

Bro turns to you, livid. “Explain,” he snaps.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the recap episode, but the characters needed it in order to reach a new conclusion.

You can’t think of a lie that will cover this, so you give up and tell him, “I’m a werewolf.”

“That’s not－”

“Shut up!” Dirk snaps, to the surprise of both you and Bro. “Don’t try to reason it out. Not at this point. You wouldn’t be so mad, you wouldn’t have shown us this, if you thought it was just us dicking around with the cameras or trying costumes or getting high or whatever back-bending reach you were about to try for! You can’t look at this and say it’s not what it is!”

Some of the tension goes out of Bro’s shoulders, and he spares another glance at the television. He sighs and drops his tablet onto the coffee table. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

You can’t face him anymore. You hunch over to stare at the floor, burying your fingers in your hair. “I thought I could fix it,” you mumble.

“And what?” he demands. “You’re just going to hunt down some cure and never tell me that this happened?”

“Yeah?”

“Why?” he demands. “Dammit, Dave, I could’ve helped. I could’ve… Is this connected to the case?”

“No,” you tell him. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe. I just… I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

Bro doesn’t say anything for a long while. Finally, he collapses into his arm chair. “I’m not disappointed in _you_ ,” he says. “I’m… I’m disappointed at the world. That this… this is a thing that exists, and no amount of training, no amount of warning, no better parenting could have stopped it. That if some creep out there, some actual fucking monster straight out of a fairytale, decides to make you the next Maya Peixes, there’s not one fucking thing I can do about but clutch my bonnet and fucking weep.”

You finally look up to stare at him, but he remains mostly unreadable. “Bro, I’m not Maya,” you say. “I’m alive. You haven't lost me.”

He’s rubbing his eyes and nose again. “Yeah,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I know.” He glances to the TV again, and you can see his mind working something over. He points to the screen. “Explain to me what’s happening there.”

You shrug. “I dunno. I don’t remember it,” you say, and somehow that makes him cringe more.

“Apparently, werewolves come in three flavors,” Dirk tells him. “Alpha, beta, and omega. Alphas are the top dogs and the only ones that can make other werewolves via bites and scratches. Betas are their packmates, usually the same werewolves that they themselves made, though apparently you can switch around. Omegas are werewolves that are somehow without a pack, which makes them sick and weak. Betas are strengthened by their alpha, but alphas have the ability to command betas, and it’s really hard not to obey. If they do it when you’re asleep, then you have no filter.”

“And your alpha is?” Bro asks.

You shrug. “I don’t know,” you tell him. “Me and Aradia were in the woods, looking for dead shit. I got attacked.” You lift the towel a bit to show him the bite marks that have healed but haven’t yet faded, and he swears under his breath. “I never found out who it was, but I think he knows who I am by now.”

“This was when?” he prompts.

You swallow guiltily and look away. “Same night you found Cronus,” you admit.

“And Jake and Jade? Are they your… packmates?”

That surprises you. You hadn’t mentioned them yet. “Um, no, they won’t say who their alpha is, but they say they’re not my pack, and it… it feels true?” you tell him. “I can’t explain it, really. But um, they were born werewolves. So they could tell what was happening with me, and they explained some stuff.”

“They wouldn’t say who their alpha is?” Bro repeats.

Dirk snorts. “Are you really surprised to learn that they’ve been cagey lately?” he asks.

Bro doesn’t reply. He just glowers at the television screen. Finally, he picks up his tablet and starts doing something with it. Logging into his police account, apparently? “I’m going to show you two something that happened today, and I want to know your honest reactions, okay? No fucking around.”

He brings up another video. It’s the holding cells in the basement of the police station. You can’t really see into the cells, but you can see the floorspace and the people who come in and out. He skips forward a few times, finding the right place, and stops at a moment where a gigantic woman who apparently doesn’t know what shirts are hands Bro some papers. He flips through them, checking the details, does something with his phone, then puts it all away in his pockets.

He goes to the cell in the corner and unlocks it, says something to the person inside. People. It’s hard to tell from the angle, but there seem to be two people on the floor with their backs to the door. The woman approaches, too. Bro is getting obviously irritated and puts his hand on his taser. The woman says something and seems to convince him to stand aside so that she can go into the cell. She stands in a way where you can’t really see what’s happening.

Suddenly, she moves. She’s pulling this guy － Jake?! － backward by his goddamn hair. Bro yells at her. His hand is on his taser. The other officer in the room has their hand on their gun.

She releases Jake, and Jade practically _crawls_ over to her, looking desperate. Jade goes to her feet, latches onto the woman’s arm, and practically buries herself in the woman's side. The woman pulls her out of the cell, and Bro quickly closes the door on Jake. Jake is desperately clamoring for Jade, shouting and crying. Meanwhile, Jade stumbles drunkenly alongside the woman who couldn’t seem more indifferent to Jade’s presence.

Bro pauses the video.

You gag. Gag again. Then, you run to the sink in the kitchen to vomit. It’s really more of a dry heave, and after a minute, Bro comes in and hands you some water. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“No, I… I’m glad.” You take your drink of water and continue facing the sink so that you don’t have to face him. “That has to be their alpha. It… It explains a lot.”

“Does it?” he asks, and you nod, but you’re not sure you can put it into words.

Luckily, that’s what you’ve got Dirk for. “They’ve been evasive about that particular issue, claiming safety concerns and that they consider the Speaker Murders to be a warning to other supernaturals. But it’s clearly an abuse situation that they’re trying to hide, and _please_ tell me you’re doing something about that.”

Bro sighs and leans his ass against the kitchen cabinets. “I lied and told Peixes that she was legally obligated to return Jade to the Egberts’ custody, but if she figures that out, there’s nothing I can do when there’s no way to get Jade or Jake to give testimony, not to mention recent developments make anything they say look sketchy as hell.” He runs a hand back through his hair, taking off his cap as he does. “We did call Social Services though. I doubt they have any werewolf expertise, but even by human standards, _that_ ” He gestures to the video still paused on the screen. “doesn’t look good.”

“Wait, that woman is a Peixes?” Dirk demands.

Bro nods. “Condolence Peixes. I risked Roxy for no reason. Woman walked right in this afternoon. Had to force proper ID out of her, though I’m sure it’s fake, but we’ve got a proper interview set up, so I guess we’ll see what happens there.” He glances to you. “What about you?” he asks.

That makes you tense up a bit. “Um, what about me?”

“You mentioned something about looking for a cure?” he says. “Is there any way to keep these alphas from dragging your ass to hell and back?”

Yeah, there is no way you’re telling him about how long you had entertained the idea of murdering someone just to fix your own situation. “I, uh, thought there was, but it seems… unlikely.”

“I might have something on it.”

You both turn to Dirk in surprise. “What? Is this the book you mentioned?” you ask.

He nods. “I don’t have it yet, so I don’t even know what’s in it. He won’t tell me. But I, um, yeah, I agreed to trade information, so now I have to try to look into this Speakers thing…”

“Wait, what Speakers thing?” Bro demands. “And who are you talking about?”

“Yeah, I’m curious how you suddenly developed helpful connections,” you tell him.

Dirk groans and scuffs his shoe against the carpet. He’s not making facial expressions, but he’s starting to smell like… Anxiety? Shame? Why would he be ashamed of knowing someone who could－

God fucking dammit. “You did not approach Nitram.” You think you might drop dead of second-hand mortification.

“I started with an apology!” he insists, but he doesn’t really sound convinced himself.

“Wait, start over,” Bro interrupts. “How the fuck does Nitram come into this?”

Dirk sighs and runs his hand through his hair. Snrk. They’re practically twins, aside from the sixteen years between them... and the fact that the linage is vertical, not horizontal, and okay, they're not really twins, just very similar. “On Friday, Dave had this group date thing…” he starts.

“Wait, you got a date?” Bro asks, turning to you.

“You could sound less surprised!” you object.

He makes a face. “It wasn’t with Megido, was it?”

“What, no!” you cry in horror. “Aradia’s my bro, man! Don’t be gross! I mean she was there, group thing, but no. Ew.”

Bro’s about to ask more, but Dirk interrupts, “If we could _focus_ , Bro? Dave’s the one with the ADHD; I don’t know what you think your excuse is, but now is not the time. Because while he was on his little date, a Serket managed to poison him with aconite. Turns out, they’re werewolf hunters. Pyrope, who is－” He turns to you. “You said she was a hunter, too, but then she helped you.”

“Redglare says they’re vigilantes,” you inform him and Bro. “They only kill the really bad ones who do things the cops can’t handle, like ‘animal attacks’.” You make the air quotes to make your meaning clear. “So far, I classify as ‘not evil,’ so they’re willing to be occasionally helpful.”

“Not evil. Well, that’s a gold star-worthy accomplishment if ever I heard one. Didja get a certificate I can hang on the fridge?” Bro teases you before returning his attention to Dirk. “So, you said poisoning, but it wasn’t a big deal?”

“It was a huge deal,” says Dirk. “He would’ve died if he hadn’t had people with him that knew what to do.”

“Which was to call Rufioh,” you add.

Dirk makes another shame-pain noise and nods. “Yeah, which was Rufioh. John told us that Rufioh’s father installed some sort of magic fence on their house that keeps werewolves out if the gate is closed, but he thought it was just their dad. But after Rufioh saved Dave, I knew he obviously knew something. So… I swallowed my pride and went to talk to him.”

“And that’s how you found about this book?” asks Bro.

“He says that if Dave gets in any more trouble, he will help, because that’s what he does,” says Dirk. “But if I want knowledge, he’s not going to volunteer it. Apparently, he learned everything he knows by studying his dad’s materia medica. To let me see it, he wants me to find out what happened to either of the unaccounted for Speakers.”

Bro perks up at that. “One of the ones whose bodies we couldn’t find?” he asks, and Dirk nods. “Okay, Summoner we found in the house. Redglare survived hanging. That leaves… Sufferer, Dolorosa, Disciple, and Psionic. Mindfang was attached to the group through Summoner but was never at the house.”

Dirk raises an eyebrow. “Uh, he only mentioned Dolorosa and Sufferer,” he said. “He seemed to think he knew what happened to the others.”

“I’m sorry, what are these names?” you push.

“Right.” Bro pauses to gather his thoughts, then tells you, “Each of the head Speakers had a nickname related to their role. Sufferer had visions. Bad ones. Summoner did magic, supposedly. Dolorosa acted as a shared mother figure. Disciple made certain that all of Summoner’s visions were recorded for posterity. Psionic was apparently－” He breaks off, gaze shifting as he thinks. “Dolorosa was Maryam and Sufferer was Vantas. But Psionic was the Captor twins’ dad. If the Speakers actually were supernatural, like they claimed, it’s entirely possible they went missing because they _didn’t_ die.”

“And abandon their kids?” you ask.

Dirk just shrugs. “People do it all the time for even shittier reasons,” he says.

Bro paces back to the living room. “But why would Nitram only ask about two of the four survivors?” he grumbles. When he gets to the table, he picks up his tablet again, already searching for something.

Dirk shrugs again. “Maybe he already knows what happened to Captor and Leijon? And no one told the police?” he suggests.

“Yeah, that’s my thinking,” Bro grumbles.

“Wait, Leijon?” you interrupt.

Dirk nods. “Yeah, the name of the Disciple was Kitty Leijon.”

“Nepeta and Meulin’s mom?” you press. You remember Rose said they were Speaker kids, but…

Bro glances to you, then scrolls through a file on his tablet. “Uh… yeah. No father on the birth certificates, but they’re both hers. Why?”

“Because we know where she is?” you tell him. “They still live with her?”

Bro scrolls some more. “No? Meulin got herself legal adult status so the apartment could be in her name when she was about 15. Says here Pyropes got it for her free of charge. They were in foster care until then.”

“No, they live with their mom,” you insist. “They’ve been mentioning her for years, and moved back in with her a few years ago. Nepeta had to leave early Friday, because Meulin needed to go to work and they can’t leave their mom alone.”

Bro blinks at you. “Holy shit,” he mumbles. “You mean… We’ve actually had a second witness sitting right under our noses this whole time?”

“You really are a terrible cop,” Dirk grumbles, rubbing his eyes again. And then he yawns loudly.

There’s a hint of a smirk on Bro’s face. “Alright, fine,” he says. “You can go to bed now. But don’t tell anybody that I want to talk to Meulin and Nepeta and don’t even hint that I think Jake is innocent.”

You nod sleepily and turn to head back to bed.

“Oh, and Dave, you’re calling Mom in the morning to tell her you’re a werewolf.”

Dammit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New fics are gonna be a bit slower to come now that I've burned through most of my buffer.


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